


drive in, move me

by MacksDramaticShenanigans



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Confessions, Drive-Ins, First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Making Out in the Impala (Supernatural), Misunderstandings, The Impala (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29519649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacksDramaticShenanigans/pseuds/MacksDramaticShenanigans
Summary: They’re only about half an hour into the first of the two movies, but Castiel hasn’t caught a single minute of it.He and Dean sit there, in the Impala, with the radio tuned to the right channel. The sounds of the wild west fill the car, but Castiel can’t focus on them. He’s sure the movie is fascinating, is sure that if he were watching on his own, somewhere other than this car, in this moment, he’d know exactly what was happening onscreen, might even be able to predict what will happen next. But right now? Right now Castiel is far too hyper aware ofDeanto pay attention to anything else.Castiel knows what happens at the drive-ins. He's heard the stories. And he’s researched it. Extensively. And he’s waiting for it to happen to him. Because that’s why they’re here, isn’t it? That’s why Dean brought him here.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 127





	drive in, move me

**Author's Note:**

> i'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!!
> 
> it's been a hot minute, i know, but writer's block is a biiiitch, and this might have been the worst bout of it that's ever bitten me. buuuut, i've managed to write something!! this fic!! which i'm super excited to post because it's also my first fic for a ~new~ fandom. (and by new fandom i mean new to me because lmfao this fandom is far from new). 
> 
> but, yes, i know what you're all thinking, _a supernatural fic???? in 2021???_ fgkhjfdgds yES. i'm doing that! lol. and no, not even i could have guessed that a _supernatural_ fic would be what got me out of my writing funk, but here we are!!
> 
> i watched the show waay back when i was in high school, and i ended up stopping towards the end of s6 bc i got kind of bored oops, but when i heard that the show was finally, officially ending i went hey, might as well go and finish it since it's going to be over. (and ofc i won't lie, november 5th had some influence too lmfao). so i ended up starting back from the beginning again bc i couldn't remember shit lol. as of right now i'm about halfway through s9 and making good progress!
> 
> but, yeah, obviously i dig the funky repressed bisexual and the gay little angel dude enough to be inspired to write about them!
> 
> this fic came to me when i was listening to my dean playlist (yes, i made a dean playlist, shut up.) and bubble pop electric by gwen stefani came on shuffle. and what makes better fic inspiration than a poppy song about banging in the backseat at a drive-in theater? nothing! lol.
> 
> (i also lowkey want to dedicate this to @heller-jensen on tumblr even tho we've never spoken dglkdf but that's probably my favorite spn account, the vibes are great and it's so fun, and also this account also was part of what got me to go back and finish the show so, marlo, if you see this hi, i'm mack, and this fic probably wouldn't exist if it weren't for you, so ty 💕)
> 
> like i said, this is my first supernatural fic, first destiel fic, so please be gentle with me. i had a lot of fun writing it, and i hope i've got some more for these two up my sleeve!
> 
> the title, of course, comes from [bubble pop electric](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xIF0Me8j0dg) by gwen stefani, and this is unbetaed, so any and all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> now, without further ado, please enjoy!!

The job had been an easy one. A pretty standard salt-and-burn in some small, backwater town that has one shitty motel near the highway and a whopping  _ two _ grubby diners, right across the street from each other. 

By the time the job is finished, the sun has set, but it’s still fairly early in the evening. With the looming threat gone, and no pressing reason to hop towns or states so quickly, Sam makes the executive decision that they’re going to stay overnight and hit the road in the morning. 

They deserve the rest of the night off; they’ve earned it. 

The motel rooms have tubs, and Sam is determined to stuff all six feet four inches of himself into one full of hot water. Dean teases him about bubbles and flower petals, and earns himself a solid punch to the arm before Sam brushes past him and locks himself in the bathroom.

“Guess that leaves you and me to fend for ourselves,” Dean says, turning towards Castiel, where the angel stands by the table and chair. “Unless you’re planning on ditchin’ me too.”

Castiel shakes his head. “I’m not needed elsewhere, Dean.”  _ I’m all yours tonight _ , he doesn’t add.

Dean gives a curt nod. “Right,” he says, then he drops his foot down heavily and rises from his perch on the end of one of the beds. “You like westerns?” He asks.

He must take Castiel’s lack of immediate response as a no, because he continues on. “Y’know, like cowboy movies?” Dean makes a finger gun and wags it at Cas. “Pistols, the hats and the boots, spurs? Clint Eastwood?”

Castiel holds up a hand and nods. “Cowboy movies,” he repeats. He knows those. How could he not? One time Dean had spent a good half an hour telling him all about the genre, describing the popular films, rambling about how incredible the effects are for their day, gushing about how badass the gunslingin’ outlaws are. They were Dean’s favorites. 

The corner of Castiel’s mouth tips up. “I enjoy cowboy movies.”

An amused look flashes across Dean’s face as he grabs his coat from where it hangs off the back of the chair. “Sure you do,” he replies, patting Castiel’s arm. “The only good thing about this craphole of a town is that it has a drive-in— you haven’t been to one of those before have you?— and there’s a Clint Eastwood double feature playing tonight. I don’t know about you but I don’t wanna stick around and listen to Sammy enjoying his… bath.” He grimaces at the closed bathroom door, and grabs the front door’s knob and twists. “Come on, let’s go.”

Castiel follows Dean out the door, but he’s hardly paying attention as they walk to the Impala and slide into their seats. He’s far too busy fixating on a certain part of what Dean just said.

_ Drive-in _ .

Drive-in movie theaters. Castiel has heard of those. Dean is right when he says that Castiel hasn’t been to one, but he knows what they are: giant outdoor movie screens, each with a vast space in front for people to park and enjoy the film from the comfort of their own cars.

He knows that in order to hear the movie’s soundtrack you have to tune into the correct channel on the radio. He knows that there’s usually a concession stand next to the ticket booth. He knows that they were most popular in the ‘50s and ‘60s. 

Castiel also knows that despite being a form of cinema theater, not much movie watching actually gets done. According to his knowledge, drive-ins are just as popular spots for couples to fool around as any make out point or lover’s lane. 

And Castiel supposes that makes sense. What with the dark atmosphere and the close proximity, and, of course, that exhilarating thrill of doing something so taboo in such a public sense, yet still being secluded enough to get away with it. 

Castiel isn’t the only one with this knowledge about drive-in theaters. He knows Dean is aware; hell, Dean and Sam both had shared a few of their own stories about taking girls to drive-ins just to get some action. It had been quite the popular MO in high school, apparently.

Which is probably why Castiel is so fixated on this. The fact that Dean is taking him to a  _ drive-in _ . It makes him wonder what exactly Dean’s intentions are. Is he bringing Castiel here on purpose? Does he have  _ expectations _ ? Or is Castiel just overthinking this, digging way too deep into something that should really just be taken at face value?

If he looks at things logically, though, all the facts point to it being a date. Dean had thrown on a clean flannel when they’d made it back to the motel (there hadn’t really been anything wrong with the one he’d been wearing already). Dean asked Castiel to join him tonight— and Castiel is sure he would have been disappointed had he declined. It’s just the two of them, alone together, sitting close in the dark of Dean’s car. And not to mention, Dean’s rap sheet when it comes to drive-ins.

Castiel spares him a glance out of the corner of his eyes, takes in how relaxed Dean looks behind the wheel, how comfortable he looks, even with Castiel in his passenger’s seat. 

So Castiel does the most natural thing he can think to do in the moment.

He assumes that it’s a date.

For a small town, the drive-in theater is pretty busy. Castiel supposes that should be expected since, according to Dean, this is the only worthwhile form of entertainment in this town.

After Dean pays for their tickets, he asks Castiel if he can handle getting the popcorn while he finds a good parking spot before it gets too crowded. 

Castiel agrees and lets Dean drop him off at the concession stand with some money and his ticket so he knows which of the two lots to find Dean in. 

The line is fairly short, and it moves quickly. Before he knows it, Castiel is making his way towards lot #2, eyes scanning the rows of cars until he spots the Impala. It’s in a row towards the back, and Castiel thinks back to that one conversation and how Dean casually dropped that the back rows were his favorite rows with a lewd wink. His stomach flops, but he ignores it as he approaches the car. 

When he slides onto the bench, Dean grins at the sight of the popcorn and immediately reaches for it. He scoops a handful and drops it into his mouth. He closes his eyes and makes a happy noise before giving a whoop. “Mm, buttery, salty, that’s what I’m talkin’ about,” he raves around his mouthful. Dean tips the bucket towards Castiel, offering him some.

Castiel takes a few kernels and pops them into his mouth. The butter and salt hit his tongue and Castiel is sent somewhere far better than Heaven as he lets the flavors wash over his taste buds. Dean’s reaction makes a helluva lot of sense now— it  _ is _ good. He can’t help the pleased noise he makes either.

Dean’s grin grows. “Told ya,” he says, taking another handful.

Castiel swallows his bite, and his eyes drop down to the other concession stand item he’s got in his hand. Dean hadn’t asked him to get this one, but he knew it would make him happy.

And, boy, is happy an understatement.

“I got you these,” Castiel announces, holding the package out for Dean.

“You got me something else?” Dean asks, tearing his attention from the popcorn to find out what Castiel is talking about.

When his eyes land on the package of licorice in Castiel’s outstretched hand, they go wide with an awed surprise. And if Castiel thought he’d had been grinning before, now Dean was positively beaming.

“ _ Dude _ ,” Dean says, looking at Castiel like he hung the friggin’ moon. “You really are an angel,” he laughs, taking the package of licorice from Castiel and tearing into it. He pulls two whips out and rips off a huge bite from both, eyes closing as he chews reverently. 

Enjoyment is written all over Dean’s face, and a happy rush of pleasure shoots through Castiel at the sight. Making Dean happy has quickly become one of Castiel’s favorite things to do.

Dean’s eyes pop open, and he points his half eaten licorice whips at Castiel. “Licorice is the  _ best _ movie snack— don’t ever let Sam tell you otherwise.” He stuffs the rest of the candy into his mouth. “They’re my favorite,” he tells Castiel, digging into the bag for another whip.

Castiel smiles privately to himself. “I know they are.”

They’re only about half an hour into the first of the two movies, but Castiel hasn’t caught a single minute of it. 

He and Dean sit there, in the Impala, with the radio tuned to the right channel. The sounds of the wild west fill the car, but Castiel can’t focus on them. He’s sure the movie is fascinating, is sure that if he were watching on his own, somewhere other than this car, in this moment, he’d know exactly what was happening onscreen, might even be able to predict what will happen next. But right now? Right now Castiel is far too hyper aware of  _ Dean _ to pay attention to anything else.

How close he’s sitting to  _ Dean _ . How when Castiel reached for some more popcorn his fingers brushed against  _ Dean’s _ as he, too, dipped into the bucket. How that bucket is resting against the thigh of  _ Dean _ .

Castiel knows what happens at the drive-ins. He's heard the stories. And he’s researched it. Extensively. And he’s waiting for it to happen to him. Because that’s why they’re here, isn’t it? That’s why Dean brought him here. 

But unlike himself, Dean does seem invested in the film. And he keeps shoveling the damn popcorn into his mouth. Castiel tells himself that Dean probably just wants to finish the popcorn first before he makes his move. Why let a good treat go to waste, right? Or maybe eating a whole bucket of popcorn before fooling around in the front seat of a car is some sort of tradition at these kinds of places. Castiel doesn’t know— he’s never done this before.

So he waits. Semi-patiently.

When the popcorn bucket is finally, blessedly emptied, Dean sets it on the dashboard of the car and settles back into his seat. One hand rests against his stomach and he lets the other fall down to his thigh. It sits there, mere inches from Castiel’s own leg. If he were to stretch his pinky out, they’d be touching.

Castiel stares at it hard out of the corner of his eye.

He feels like he’s going to vibrate right out of his vessel. He’s never quite experienced anticipation to this degree, and it both rattles him and excites him.

Except time keeps ticking on, the minutes of the movie keep adding up, and soon enough the first film is reaching its climax.

And Dean still hasn't made a move. 

Castiel begins to think that maybe Dean is waiting for him to make the first move. After all, he's always been pretty considerate of Castiel's boundaries when it comes to human activities. 

It's kind of sweet, actually. 

But Castiel doesn't want sweet. He wants Dean. Has for a long time now. And the thought that he might actually, finally get him tonight has him wanting to take things into his own hands, to make sure it happens. 

So Castiel goes for it. 

He darts his hand out across the short distance and grabs Dean's crotch. 

Dean's body instinctively jerks back against the seat. His eyes go wide, eyebrows shooting up as he jumps in his skin a little. His own hand flies down to cover Castiel's, except instead of holding it there, instead of pressing it down like Castiel is expecting, Dean grabs it and pulls it away. 

He turns to Castiel with those big, confused eyes, traces of shock and panic in their depths. "Woah, hey there," he laughs awkwardly, "popcorn finished up a while ago, buddy." Another nervous laugh bubbles past his lips. He's still holding Castiel's hand. "You, uh, that invested in the movie you didn't hear me offer you the last of it?" 

Castiel blinks and tips his head to the side. His brows furrow. "I don't know what's going on in the movie," he admits. 

Dean's face scrunches up a little more, and he laughs anxiously again. "Are you... confused?" He asks. "I can explain what's going on. The cowboy—" 

But Castiel cuts him off, "I'm not confused," he tells him, point blank. "I haven't been watching." 

The confusion on Dean's face grows, and a brief shadow of disappointment sneaks into the mix. "Oh, are you bored? Do you not— you're not into old westerns?" A grimace takes over Dean's face, and he sits up in his seat and tries to take his hand back from Castiel's to reach for the steering wheel. 

Castiel was so focused on the splay of emotions crossing Dean's face that he didn't even notice Dean hadn't let go yet. 

"We can head back to the motel if you're not feeling it, Cas." 

But Castiel tightens his grip on Dean's hand before it can slip away.

"No, I— there's nothing wrong with the film. I just…" Castiel scrunches up his nose and squints as he tries to find the right words. "I didn't think we were here to watch it," he finally confesses. 

"You— what?" 

Castiel shrugs. "I thought you brought me here… for the same reason you brought those girls to places like this when you were growing up."

Dean's lips part in a surprised 'o', and a soft pink hue blossoms high on his cheekbones as Castiel's implications sink in. It's clear he wasn't expecting that answer.

"So, uh, you weren't reaching for the, uh," Dean waves his hand through the air and clears his throat, "the popcorn, then." 

Cas shakes his head unabashedly, and Dean's flush darkens. 

Dean clears his throat again, gruffly, and they sit there for a moment. A thick silence settles over them. 

Castiel doesn't know what the silence means. He's usually pretty good at reading Dean, but right now he's having trouble with it. 

But then a sort of pained expression twists onto Dean's face, and he turns towards Castiel. 

Castiel's heart thuds painfully against his ribcage because, oh god, this doesn't look good. It looks the exact opposite of good.

Castiel sits up and prepares himself to take the rejection. 

In fact, he's already opening his mouth to apologize and tell Dean to forget it ever happened, to brush it off and say he was confused about human tradition (or what he thought was human tradition, anyways. That wouldn't even be a lie, not really.) 

But then Dean shuffles closer in the bench seat, their thighs suddenly pressing together, and Castiel clamps his mouth shut. 

Castiel’s eyes drop down to look at where they're touching, and when his gaze flickers back up again, Dean's face is much closer, too. 

He looks nervous, but underneath it Castiel can see a glint of that fearless, determined spark that shows up in the face of every dangerous hunt. 

Castiel sits, patiently, barely even breathing. He waits for Dean, waits for him to close those last few inches, waits for him to make the first move— or the second one, he supposes. 

And then time isn’t moving so slowly anymore as Dean seems to gather his courage and jerks forward to crush their mouths together. It's a little rough, a little aggressive at first, and Dean's aim is off enough that he catches the corner of Castiel's lips rather than the full of them. Castiel tilts his head and Dean catches his bottom lip between his own, and it’s like it all just  _ clicks _ . And, god, is it  _ good _ . It’s downright  _ heavenly _ .

Dean’s lips are soft against his own, just like he imagined they would be. And he knows how to use them, too. 

Castiel's hand comes up to Dean's arm, holds his elbow before gliding up his sleeve, stopping on the ball of his shoulder— fingers lining up with what he knows lies beneath the fabric. 

Dean shudders and gasps a little, mouth falling further open, and Castiel takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into the mix, licking into Dean's mouth.

Castiel can't help himself as he crowds into Dean's space, pressing him up against the driver's side door.

Dean's body opens towards Castiel, shoulders shifting as he welcomes him into his space. One of his hands lands on Castiel's hip, grip firm, fingers pressing through the fabric, touch hot enough to burn. 

Castiel draws his other hand up to rest against the curve of Dean's neck. He can feel his pulse jackrabbiting beneath his palm, and that just spurs Castiel on.

He uses his leverage to tip Dean's head back a little, deepening the kiss even more. The enthusiasm Dean meets him with sends tingles down to his toes.

Dean tastes a little sweet and a little salty, and Castiel can't get enough of it.

The hand Dean has on Castiel's waist dips beneath his trenchcoat, and Dean's palm settles against the small of his back, fingers splayed wide enough that his thumb can trail against the waistband of Castiel's pants.

Castiel leans back, as much as he can without separating their lips, so he can struggle out of his coat. He gets tangled up in it as he tries to multitask. But then it's off and he flings it blindly into the backseat.

And then Dean's hands are back on Castiel, touching him, feeling him, and Castiel's kisses turn desperate and messy as his mind goes fuzzy around the edges.

Castiel relishes in the touch, gets lost in it. So when it disappears, his body stutters against Dean's and mourns the loss. That is, until he realizes that Dean's only let go to grab his tie, working at the knot with deft fingers.

It takes a few tries before the knot finally gives. But in his haste to tug the fabric from the loop, Dean jerks his arm back, hard, and his elbow slams into the center of the steering wheel, blaring the horn. 

It's enough to startle the both of them, and they break apart with wide eyes and flushed faces, chests still pressed together and laboring with each breath. 

Dean sits up, and Castiel rights himself as well, gaze darting up and out the window at the other cars around them. Some of the other moviegoers shoot their car some dirty looks, and a few of them bark out annoyed "shut up"s. They hadn’t really done anything more than kiss, but it's every bit as thrilling as Castiel expected almost getting caught would be.

He looks back down at Dean to find him already staring back. Their eyes meet, cheeks pink, and they both break out in giddy laughter.

When they finally get themselves under control, Castiel slides out of Dean's lap, but he doesn't stray far. 

Dean runs a hand over his jaw, and Castiel glances over at Dean, follows the motion with his eyes.

He lets his gaze wander across the rest of Dean, taking in the way his hair sticks up in spots from where he’d gotten his fingers in it. Dean’s mouth is  _ pink pink pink _ , bottom lip still glistening from where it’d been wedged between Castiel’s. It’s hard to look away from that. The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes become prominent as a smile stretches across Dean’s face. It’s small at first, like it’s just for himself, but then Dean clocks Castiel staring at him, and it grows bigger and brighter, albeit a little bashful too.

Castiel’s own mouth curves wide in response.

Dean rubs at the back of his check and chuckles softly.

“So, uh, that happened,” he says.

Castiel nods. “That did happen,” he agrees and pauses. Then, “I’ve been wanting that to happen for some time now,” in a softer voice.

Dean takes in a sharp breath, like he hadn’t expected those words to fall from Castiel’s lips. “Really?” He asks, full of wonder.

Castiel nods again. “Of course,” he confirms. 

It’s hard to miss the pink hue rising to Dean’s cheeks as his gaze drops to his lap, and he toys with the ring on his right hand. It’s such a lovely color on him, Castiel thinks. It makes his freckles pop, too. Castiel wants to reach out and count each one.

“I—you—that's—me too. Me too, Cas,” Dean replies, lifting his eyes to meet Castiel’s once more.

They hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds, twin mixes of awe and something soft reflecting between them.

“You know, I thought this was supposed to be a date,” Castiel tells him after a few moments.

The surprise returns to Dean’s face (though Castiel wonders if it ever really left). “Wait what?”

“I was under the impression that drive-ins are for, well, for making out and heavy petting,” Castiel explains.

“Heavy pet— Cas, no one calls it that,” Dean snorts.

“Sex, then,” Castiel corrects. “In the backseat, usually,” he adds bluntly, eyes flickering to the rear view mirror. The backseat stares back, dark and awfully enticing.

Some of the color returns to Dean’s cheeks again. He clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “Well, uh,” he starts, “I guess you’re not wrong. A lot of people do come to the drive-ins just to screw around.” He gets a far away look in his eyes as he laughs again. “I don’t think I actually watched any of the movies I brought girls to in high school,” he admits.

“See? My sources were correct,” Castiel says. “My conclusion wasn’t far off, either.”

“That doesn’t always happen though,” Dean is quick to explain. “Some people do actually want to watch the movies.”

“Do you?” Castiel asks, not missing a beat. “Want to watch the movies?”

He’s fishing, clearly. It must be obvious.

Dean takes his time to come up with his answer. “Well I figured you’d want to watch the movies, so I assumed that’s what we’d do.” 

“That’s not what I asked, Dean,” Casitel says, voice low. Slowly, pointedly, he slides his leg towards Dean's. 

Dean's gaze drops down to the space between them, watching as it grows smaller and smaller, until there's none left. Until they're all but pressed up against each other once more. 

“Well, uh, I have seen these movies several times before,” Dean trails off. 

Castiel tilts his head, tips his chin up. His hand finds its way to Dean's elbow, and Dean reaches for his waist again. 

"Good," Castiel murmurs. "Then you won't mind missing the ending." 

Dean's mouth curves into a grin. "Not one bit," he says. Then he cups Castiel's jaw and pulls him in. "Now c'mere."

As their lips meet once more, Castiel thanks his graces for being a little clueless sometimes.

And as far as drive-ins are concerned, they certainly live up to the hype.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think with a kudos and a comment! They keep me going!!
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://heisallandheismore.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/BrklynBabyBucky)! :)


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